


They Met by Accident

by ira_fae



Series: Carnaval des Animaux (Carnival of Animals) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Figure Skater AU, Figure Skater Sakusa Kiyoomi, First Date, First Meetings, Fluff, Just cute goodness, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Miya Atsumu, POV Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28181874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ira_fae/pseuds/ira_fae
Summary: They met by accident. There was no introduction from a mutual friend (they didn’t have any of those at the time). It was truly an accident.Atsumu’s first thought is, ‘Gorgeous.’Kiyoomi’s first thought is, ‘Ugh.’-They Met by Accident; in which Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi have a chance meeting.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Carnaval des Animaux (Carnival of Animals) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049654
Comments: 8
Kudos: 90





	They Met by Accident

**Author's Note:**

> this is part of a series but can be read as a stand-alone. this is three years before the first installment
> 
> i was inspired wholly by [@moonlumie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlumie/pseuds/moonlumie) and [@favespacetwink's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/favspacetwink/pseuds/favspacetwink) fantastic sakuatsu series [Terminal Curiousity](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921516) it's a wonderful series, a must read.

They met by accident. There was no introduction from a mutual friend (they didn’t have any of those at the time). It was truly an accident.

Miya Atsumu was third-wheeling (fourth-wheeling?) on a date with his stupid twin brother Osamu, his stupid girlfriend, and her obnoxious little cousin. Osamu dragged Atsumu to an ice rink so they could get a ‘family discount.’ Atsumu put the skates and hobbled out onto the ice, completely distancing himself from Osamu and his little group. Atsumu hugged the railing as he hobbled around the rink, glaring daggers at all the little seven and eight-year-olds that were performing those crazy spins and jumps (and also skating circles around him). 

Sakusa Kiyoomi was trying to break in a newer pair of skates before the serious practices started. He wasn’t doing anything too complicated. He doesn’t want to accidentally bump into one of the junior skaters or one of the many inexperienced couples pulling each other across the ice. He was also wearing a mask, as the rink was quite full of people and he also does  _ not _ want to be recognized. So, high-intensity moves were out of the question for personal safety and the safety of those skating around him. 

Kiyoomi was trying to skate off the ice to get a drink. Atsumu was trying to skate without the help of the wall. 

They bump into each other and would’ve gone tumbling to the ground if not for Kiyoomi’s experience, strength, and tight grip on Atsumu’s arm.

Atsumu’s first thought is, _ ‘Gorgeous.’ _

Kiyoomi’s first thought is, _ ‘Ugh.’  _

Once he’s completely sure that the man with the bleach blond hair would not tumble over, Kiyoomi let go.

“Excuse me,” he said, politely bowing his head as he stepped across the barrier, away from the stranger. This was exactly why Kiyoomi hated being at the Itchityama Club rink during public skate sessions. Even junior skaters, who are as young as thirteen, have better manners than most of the public. They understand how to skate around others, how to be courteous on the ice. Even skaters that are younger, five, even six-year-olds. They have more grace and more manners than these people. Kiyoomi grumbles under his breath as he sits down, reaching down to press at the skates. They’re black. Black boots and black blades. Kiyoomi prefers when his skates are one color. He has never liked the look of white skates with silver blades or black skates with silver blades. Perhaps it’s just the silver he doesn’t like. 

As Kiyoomi muses over this, drinking sips of his water, Atsumu is on the other side of the rink, starstruck. 

He cannot believe he bumped into a gorgeous stranger. A gorgeous, strong stranger. The man is sitting outside of the rink and Atsumu has trouble keeping himself upright. He knows he shouldn’t stare, it’s rude. But… As the stranger uses a gloved finger to brush a few stray curls back from his forehead, Atsumu can’t do anything but stare. 

“Have you fallen on your ass yet, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu gracefully slides by him, smirking. Atsumu glares daggers at him and tries to speed up to catch him. He doesn’t succeed. He’s made it to the opposite side of the rink from where he bumped into the beautiful, curly-haired man. Atsumu stops his hand on the rail and turns to look. 

The man has stood back up. He easily glides back out onto the ice, hands behind his back as he weaves in between people. He makes it look effortless. It fills Atsumu with an emotion he can’t name. Then he starts skating  _ backward.  _ Atsumu’s mouth drops open as the man pulls into himself in the center of the rink and does a mind-boggling spin. 

He has zero clue what that is, but he knows for a fact that he is impressed. He also realizes he’s being a creep and starts skating again. 

Kiyoomi can  _ still feel _ that guy’s eyes on him. He’s inching pitifully around the rink and with every move Kiyoomi makes he can feel that idiot still watching him. He tries to shake off the feeling. He wants to try a couple of jumps before he leaves. With a quick glance, Kiyoomi makes sure no one is in his way and prepares himself to do a double toe flip. As he pivots to take off he sees the blond staring and he pops the jump. 

_ “Shit,” _ Kiyoomi mutters under his breath. He huffs, making his mask shift slightly. He adjusts it and skates away from the center of the rink so he can try again. He makes sure his path is clear and starts skating. He turns and again he sees the blond, jaw practically on the ice. Kiyoomi pops the jump again. He clenches his fists, his soft gloves gently shifting against his skin. 

Okay, no toe loop. He’ll do a double flip instead. It’s fine. Not a big deal. And he won’t pop the goddamn jump. 

He goes through his little routine again, skating to the outside of the rink, checking to make sure he won’t hurt anyone. He breathes out, trying to regulate himself. He doesn’t get distracted by stupid things like a gawking stranger. He’s used to gawking strangers. He pivots for the jump and there again in his line of sight is that goddamn blond. Not only does Kiyoomi pop the jump but he almost falls to the ice. He rights himself and turns to find the blond. He quickly skates over to him. 

“You are distracting me.” All of Kiyoomi’s politeness has dissipated.

The blond splutters and flails, almost slipping down to the ice. Kiyoomi almost reaches out to steady him but snatches his hand back. 

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I- you- you’re good.” 

Kiyoomi purses his lips behind his mask. 

“Stop staring at me,” he starts to turn but tacks on, “please.” It comes out snarkier than he intended but the stranger can deal. Kiyoomi skates away, determined. 

He pivots, slams his toe pick into the ground, and does a perfect triple toe loop. He almost turns to see if that idiot is still watching him. He doesn’t. Instead, he smirks and prepares to do a double flip. 

Atsumu can’t believe that just happened. The man’s voice is so… he can’t even think of a good word. He said that Atsumu was distracting him. That means he saw him looking. God. Atsumu slaps a hand over his face, groaning softly. 

He can’t help but take a tiny peek. The man lands a beautiful jump thing that leaves Atsumu breathless. He continues to skate around the rink, stealing glances at the man as he jumps and twirls magically. Atsumu is right by where he bumped into the stranger for the first time when he realized that he’s stopped and is staring again. 

Without that guy staring at him, Kiyoomi is able to run the gauntlet of easier jumps. He decides that before he leaves he’s going to try a double axel. He wasn’t going to but now he’s feeling confident. He skates out, checks his path, starts skating, pivots- And that  _ idiot _ has completely stopped moving, slack-jawed again, eyes wide, staring holes into Kiyoomi’s soul. He fucks up the rotation which fucks up the landing. Kiyoomi falls to the ice. It’s nothing particularly painful. He’s fallen millions of times. He wore thicker gloves than he does during real training, so his hands are fine. He’s fully capable of finding a good way to land with his body when he knows he won’t land on his blades. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, except that when he goes to get back on his feet there is a hand in front of him. He follows the hand up the arm, past the shoulder, to the face. It’s a very sorry expression that the blond wears. The expression does nothing for Kiyoomi’s annoyance. 

He pulls himself to standing, insulted that this guy thought he would need help. 

“Do you  _ need _ something?” Kiyoomi seethes. Not just politeness has vanished now. Kiyoomi is angry. Who  _ is this guy? _ And why is Kiyoomi letting himself be distracted by him. 

“I’m- You were- I-” The guy flushes, the red clashing with his ugly hair, “I’m sorry. For distracting you. Multiple times. I- I really didn’t mean to. Let me make it up to you.” 

“Make it up to me?” 

The blond smiles, “Yeah. Let me buy you a drink. Or food. We could get lunch… or dinner. I’m not actually sure what time it is.” 

Kiyoomi breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth slowly. Free food does sound nice. And perhaps if he has a chance to dissect this creature he will find what irks him so. 

“Fine. Dinner, and a drink. And you’re lucky I didn’t just get injured or you’d be paying my fees for this season.” 

“Oh, uhm, s-sure. I just gotta go tell someone real quick,” The blond smiles and haphazardly skates away. It honestly pains Kiyoomi to watch him. He stops in front of a man who looks remarkably like him. Just with differently dyed hair. Kiyoomi narrows his eyes, deciding they must be twins. 

“‘Samu, ‘Samu, ‘Samu!” Atsumu is breathless. He can’t believe that worked! He honestly thought the guy would shout at him. Osamu looks incredibly annoyed and his girlfriend is laughing. 

“What, ‘Tsumu?”

“Uh, I’m going on a date… With that guy…” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing vaguely in the direction he came from. “The really good skater. So… Uh… Bye.” And with that he skates away, not wanting to give Osamu the chance to ask any questions. That’s probably the best decision. He knows that Osamu will grill him later tonight if he doesn’t end up bringing his girlfriend back to the apartment. Oh, maybe Atsumu will- Nope. He stops that train of thought right at the source. He wants to be decent. This guy seems really cool. 

He should probably ask his name. 

When the idiot returns, it’s with bright red cheeks and a cheesy grin. Kiyoomi looks up from his skates having just pressed the guard onto the last blade.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he says softly, standing, grabbing his coat and water bottle. 

“Uhm…”

“My name. It’s Sakusa Kiyoomi.” He turns and starts walking to the front of the rink.

“Oh! Of course. It’s nice. Your name is, I mean.”

Kiyoomi knows just by the sound that the guy has smacked himself, in the face most likely. “And yours?” Kiyoomi asks, exasperated by the fact that he didn’t offer this information himself. 

“Oh!” he says again, Kiyoomi suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, “Right. Atsumu. Miya Atsumu.” 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Miya-san.” Kiyoomi pushes through the doors with his elbow headed straight to the locker room. He wants to get out of these skates. Miya trails after him like a puppy.

“Just call me Atsumu. No one calls me Miya. It’s too confusing. I have a twin brother,” Kiyoomi was right, he thinks to himself smugly, “so in school, everyone just called us by our given names.”

“Even teachers?” 

Atsumu laughs and Kiyoomi can’t help but find it a pleasant sound, “No. That was never a problem. ‘Samu and I were never in the same class. He’s much smarter than me.” Kiyoomi hums in acknowledgment and sits down on the bench in front of his locker. He reaches down to unlace his skates and Atsumu sits next to him and mirrors his actions. 

“Woah, those skates are real cool, Omi-kun,” Atsumu says softly, and Kiyoomi realizes the other man has his eyes transfixed on Kiyoomi’s skates. He blinks in surprise. 

“Well, thank you. They were custom made.” 

Atsumu’s eyebrows shoot up, “What?! That’s crazy!” 

As time passes Kiyoomi is finding Atsumu’s presence more bearable. He listens intently to everything Kiyoomi says, even when he is blatantly insulting Atsumu. He takes Kiyoomi to his family’s Onigiri restaurant which Atsumu resolutely says his brother will be the head of one day. 

Kiyoomi is almost fascinated by Atsumu. His mannerisms, his way of speaking, his very specific accent that Kiyoomi can’t seem to place. He speaks fondly of his family and when he asks Kiyoomi about his own he swiftly changes the subject. Atsumu easily follows Kiyoomi’s change of topic, again pressing him for information on his career. He’d been doing this since Kiyoomi told him about his custom skates.

“Please, Omi-Omi,” the nicknames keep evolving, “I’m dying. You’ve given me just little itty bits of info. I gotta know.” 

“Only if you don’t call me that again,” Kiyoomi says, pointing his chopsticks at Atsumu. 

Atsumu has the gall to try and look innocent, “I can’t promise that.” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and resigns himself to his fate.

“I’m a professional ice skater. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. I compete professionally all over the country and the world.” 

Atsumu looks like a child receiving a gift, “Woah. That’s so cool, Omi-kun. I wish I was a professional athlete. I thought I was gonna do volleyball professionally. But I injured my knee real bad in university, so- Wait, no I’m distracted. Tell me more about this. Are you good?”

Kiyoomi flushes up to the tips of his ears and looks down at his plate, pushing rice around with his chopsticks, “Well, I did win a silver medal at the Olympics.” 

“What?!” Atsumu shouts. Kiyoomi looks up, shushing him frantically, waving apologetically to the other customers. “You mean- The Olympics that just happened?! Like- You- For Japan?!” Kiyoomi nods, even more embarrassed. He wishes he hadn’t told Atsumu. He hasn’t even removed the medal from the little box that Desroches-sensei, his coach, had it put in. It’s sitting in the top of his closet. He can’t bear to look at it. He can’t bear to look at most of his medals. He only has three or four displayed. 

“Holy shit,” Atsumu says, “so, you’re like… really good, Omi-Omi.”

Atsumu never does stop calling him ‘Omi-Omi.’ Over time Kiyoomi cares less and less. It almost starts to be endearing. 

They met by accident, so technically their first date was an accident. Their second one was on purpose, Kiyoomi was still so curious about what made Miya Atsumu tick. Their third date was solely because Atsumu was endearingly persistent. The dates after about number five, Kiyoomi blames on Atsumu’s cheeky smile, his sparkling eyes, his enthusiasm, his little jokes, his love for his brother, his joy. 

They met by accident, but got together and stayed together on purpose. 

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr [@ira-fae](https://ira-fae.tumblr.com/)  
> come yell at me on twitter [@ira-fae](https://twitter.com/ira_fae_)


End file.
